


Roach's Quarantine Disaster

by faerie_wings



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, References to Drugs, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerie_wings/pseuds/faerie_wings
Summary: It's one of those days, you know the ones, where Jaskier does something stupid and has to get quarantined. Crack ensues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Roach's Quarantine Disaster

It’s one of those days, you know the one, where everything doesn’t  _ not  _ go well, it just doesn’t make much of an impact on anything in particular. Jaskier likes to think of them as “boring” – Geralt thinks of them as peaceful, quiet and free of the eternal ramblings of a man haunted by the ghosts of his ex-flings. Basically, what Geralt means to say is, Jaskier is annoying and on days like this he’s marginally less annoying. Still annoying though.

So it’s on a “Marginally-Less-Annoying-Jaskier Day” that the fun begins. The weather is fine – in all meaning of the word – it’s not wet, not very sunny, slightly cloudy, a nice, manageable 15 degrees Celsius and the path is clear and calm. No one’s killing monsters, planning on killing monsters, being harassed by monsters, or anything of the Witchering sort, and Jaskier is bored. Jaskier’s definition of the word “bored” – and any variations of it – may differ slightly from conventional definitions; in so much that it doesn’t – Jaskier is bored and disinterested and “inspiration doesn’t strike easily, Geralt! (Not that you’d know.)” 

His latest ballad is a bit shit (even he can admit that) and it’s not shaping up to be getting any better on this fine day with nothing to do, his habit of plucking out tunes and singing along gets to the point of plucking and never progresses any farther, and he’s stuck trudging behind an unappreciative and slightly-mute Witcher, no conversation starter popping up beyond, “the weather’s nice.” Yeah. He’s not doing too good today. To sum up; Geralt is – mostly – happy, Roach is as good company as ever (she’s great fun at the local tavern), and Jaskier is bored. 

It’s the mind-numbing boredom that leads to the situation we find our dynamic duo (and Jaskier) in. So Jaskier touches a plant or potion or other potentially dangerous substance, big deal, it’s not that bad, he’s done much worse with much less (two pints of ale, a chair, and no clothes, to be precise) – at least this time he has his clothes on, his lute with him, his Witcher and Roach. It’s here where the “marginally-less-annoying” part comes in because while, yes, in fact, Jaskier is less annoying on those days (you know which ones), he is still quite annoying. Oh, Geralt said “quite”, yeah, he meant “extremely”. Not only did Jaskier touch unknown substances; he also existed. 

So Geralt finds Jaskier annoying, it’s been established, and Jaskier continues to find ways to annoy Geralt – that has not yet been established, but we’re working on it – and Jaskier touches the unknown botany surrounding the road. It’s then that Geralt realises, he’s made a huge mistake. It’s not a mistake relevant to the narrative, nor is it relevant to their upcoming situation, but it’s a thought that sprung up suddenly, unexpectedly, out of nowhere. He’s left the hearth burning. Geralt doesn’t have a permanent residence, not if you count Kaer Morhen – however permanent it may seem, considering it’s a keep that has housed Geralt more than any other place on the whole continent – but in the inn Geralt and his tag-along where staying at, Geralt left the hearth burning.

Then he dismisses the thought. Then he notices something actually relevant. The smell. Turns out, those potentially dangerous plants and potions are, *gasp*, potentially dangerous. So he turns around and what does the white-haired Witcher find? The troublesome troubadour has touched some shit that should not be touched under any circumstance and, “Melitele, Jaskier, what the fuck are you doing?” It’s a rhetorical, if valid, question and Geralt’s dry, deadpan tone conveys perfectly his suffering. 

The point is, Jaskier’s fucked some shit up, and now Gerald has to clean up after him. As usual. Melitele, he hates that fucking bard with his stupid face and his stupid curiosity and stupid innocent expression, yes, he means that one. This means, in essence, that Geralt now has to stop, check out what the hell’s wrong with the bard, and then continue onward ignoring his (likely) pain. Yes, he’s a heartless bastard, yes, he knows, and yes, he doesn’t care. (In fact, he loves the reactions of the people he’s currently in the company of.) 

However, upon stopping and seeing what Jaskier had managed to screw up now, he quickly realised that there was a danger inherent in allowing Jaskier to continue onward to the town, as the chemicals released by the plants he had touched had contagious properties and, if allowed to spread, could lead to lung infections in a lot of humans. He had learnt that from some Oxenfurt professor who was determined to give him a lecture on botany that he hadn’t asked for and wasn’t particularly interested in, but had proved useful. Looking back, it seemed that quite a few people talked to him without his participation or enjoyment. He’d have to look into that (it stemmed from Jaskier’s songs about the White Wolf.) 

So it came to be that Geralt of Rivia and his faithful companion stopped by the side of an otherwise-empty road to look after the dumb bard that insisted on following them (though, if she were being honest, Roach quite liked the small human, but refused to tell Geralt – it was shame enough that she succumbed to his apple-bribes,) and set up a twenty-four-hour quarantine to keep the continent safe. Though how a singular bard was meant to take down a whole continent, no one knew.

Geralt meant to keep the continent safe from his wretched singing – it all becomes clear once all the facts are on the table. If Jaskier had known this he may have been offended, however, he did not know this, so instead was grateful that Geralt seemed to care about what happened to him. This is where the actual fun begins, for it would not be a true quarantine story involving our favourite Witcher-Horse-Bard trio if it did not include details of the escapades the trio got up to.

**Hour One: The Journal**

_ It was on the path from Novigrad to Vizima that a curious incident occurred and I was forced to pause my travels for some time. I had been admiring the fauna and had touched a few beautiful looking flowers when my faithful travelling partner, the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, noticed the smell of the flora on my fingertips and had bid me stay and rest for the period of 24 hours for he had known, from one Professor Jarius Komek of my Alma Mater Oxenfurt Academy, that the plants I had touched released a sort-of toxin that affected the respiratory health of some who came in contact with the toxin.  _

_ The Witcher, too, had decided to pause his travels to make sure that I was in goo-  _

“Jaskier? What are you writing?” The Witcher enquired wryly, expecting a reasonable and predictable response along the lines of “Another ballad, dear Witcher.” However, it was a day void of inspiration for the bard and he had taken to writing his journal in the hopes that it would one day be published. 

Unfortunately, Jaskier had reacted as if he were writing, or reading, a raunchy fiction starring Alexandria Grett and her rich lover, Lord Tarrent Grey, a book that was popular among students and faculty alike (the author, D.L. John, had, according to some, based it on some other work of fiction by some niche Vampire author Florentine Hyer). Jaskier blushed profusely, slammed the journal shut, and stammered a reply consisting of various vowels without any consonants attached to form an understandable response.

This amused Geralt profusely and had made him decide that he had filled up his daily quota for teasing Jaskier, and resolved to lay off him for the rest of the day. This proved too difficult.

**Hour Three: Roach’s Problem**

Roach was having one of those days, you know the ones, where nothing is wrong, it’s just not particularly exciting. Geralt was having one of his compassionate moments (why he ever insisted he disliked Jaskier was beyond her) and had stopped them in the middle of a road that she was perfectly happy to walk. She hadn’t even complained about sore hooves, or sore back, or sweaty man, or anything. She was just abruptly stopped and tied to a tree so that Geralt could flirt with his friend.

And it’s not that she disliked Geralt’s friend, he gave her many treats and apples that even Geralt didn’t give her, it’s just that they insisted on stopping despite the road being easy, and the weather being pleasant, and the town being not too far. She’s been tied up here for at least an hour, and it’s tiring. Guess she just has to deal with it. As always.

**Hour Six: Geralt’s Triumphant Discovery**

It was a light and breezy day, the clouds were painting the sky in shades of dappled grey and white, and the trees were singing their joyful melody. Geralt wasn’t listening. Geralt was sneaking around, trying to get that book off of Jaskier, to see if he had anything that would be embarrassing or amusing. Like that romance novel about the girl, Alexandria and that rich Lord, Tarrent something-or-other (yes, he had read it, everyone had read it) or some sultry lines of his own. Anything would do. 

It had happened that Jaskier had run off to search for a river, or something to wash his hands of the sticky substance coating his fingers and had left behind the book he was writing in. Geralt grabbed the book and opened it to the first page, it was adorned with a date and seemed to be written in a pretentious prose reminiscent of Oxenfurt professors.

He had started reading it, but upon realising that it was simply a (very biased) recounting of events he had begun to put it back when he noticed the loose pages sticking out from between the bound pages of the journal. Pulling out the parchment, he was rewarded with a hastily scrawled lewd limerick about himself and Jaskier in a… situation, searching through the journal revealed several of these kinds of writings, some about him, others about his, ahem, assets, all cast in a smutty light. It seemed his search was not for nothing.

He pocketed one of the verses and replaced the remaining ones in the book and placed it back where he found it, he had found what he had come for, and he was pleased. Maybe this had potential…

(In fact, Geralt had not found what he was looking for, for Jaskier kept his writings based on established characters in various situations in a separate book, to be published in the student newsletter/magazine in Oxenfurt under the pseudonym Dandilion Marigold. He was proud of these works, but they weren’t for the uninitiated eyes.)

**Hour Eight: Jaskier Raids a Liquor Store**

Jaskier did not, in fact, raid a liquor store, however, he did raid Geralt’s store of liquor. It had been mostly uneventful the past few hours, some writing in his journal, some tending to Roach, some talking. Uneventful. And that could not do. He was not made to be the victim of one of those days, so he excitedly stole some (all) of Geralt’s spare alcohol and decided to get drunk, high, and fucked up. 

He had no fisstech lying around (he only did fisstech when he was at Oxenfurt with people he trusted, not on the road with a mildly prudish Witcher) and getting fucked up would require getting fucked, so that’s off the cards. Getting pissed it is. He takes a swig of the vodka Geralt kept in his pack, and immediately coughed – he was no lightweight, but alcohol meant to get a Witcher buzzed is not liquor meant for human consumption. 

Geralt quickly zoned in on him, taking note of the bottle of premium Witcher vodka brewed in the distilleries beneath the Witcher laboratories in Kaer Morhen – he only got a few bottles of it for when he goes out on the path from Vesemir that winter, and he was planning on making it last (not that it ever did.) Then, he took account of the spluttering brunet holding onto the bottle and made his way to the man, jerking the vodka from his hold and taking a shot himself; if he has to deal with this sort of recklessness, he wants to be reckless while doing it.

**Hour Nine: The Confession**

“I-*hic* I don’t want to leave you, Geralt!” Jaskier’s sobbing cry was heard, “I just, you’re my best friend, you know that? You’re my best friend and- and,” it seemed that Jaskier was an emotional drunk who professed his appreciation the same way he professed in Oxenfurt – passionately, meaningfully, and completely incomprehensibly. 

Geralt, on the other hand, was an unaware drunk who stared into the distance, turned red, looked away, and then came to, in that order. It seemed that he was thinking about the lewd poetry written on the loose pages in the journal, for his next words could be as a result of having read the aforementioned poetry just a few hours beforehand.

“Jaskier- wait, no, Jaskier- you, you’re more than my best friend, you- you’re- Jaskier, I, I think I wanna fuck you, Jaskier,” Geralt’s disjointed speech was filled with more ‘Jaskier’s than he usually spoke in a day and contained a confession that was both sweet and awful, ignoring the usually emotions behind it, and containing a few too many pauses to be fully understood.

Regardless, however Jaskier had planned to respond, he was quickly overtaken by violent vomiting – Witcher vodka isn’t meant for humans – and rapidly fell unconscious, leaving Roach laying down tied up to a tree, and Geralt having forgotten his confession, seemingly staring into the distance, holding his breath.

The last moments of extremely drunk men before they fall unconscious are either hilarious or painful. In this case, it’s painful. Geralt stays silent for a few more minutes before getting up to find the river and falling asleep at the bank, Jaskier rolls over, vomits, rolls over again, and then stays in that position. Roach is still tied to a tree – it’s simply one of those days.

**Author's Note:**

> What is this? I don't even know, all I know is that I wrote it in one sitting when I was meant it be sleeping.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
